


The king's choice

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I received a headcanon on Tumblr, about Manwë being inconsolable after Melkor's banishment. And this happened.<br/>Just a few words about this love/hate relationship between two brothers who took different paths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The king's choice

He was standing alone on the highest tower of the palace above Taniquetil, the highest place on Arda, a dove resting on his right arm and his hand scratching absent-mindedly the bird’s head. His clear blue eyes fixed on the ocean, Manwë hadn’t said a word in many days. Not a word since they had left the Ring of Doom, since the sentence had been stated. It seemed so long ago and yet only a few days had passed.

After the trial, the Elder King had left Valmar silently, as a heavy cloud had started to fill his heart. A dark cloud of regrets, pain and misery.

His mind was locked to everyone, for he didn’t wish to be disturbed. Manwë needed to think , he needed to feel and most of all, he needed to understand the nature of this aching feeling. Even Iluvatar wouldn’t have been able to reach his heart. Especially Iluvatar. The Allfather was the last one Manwë wished to speak to.

During the past days, he had often felt a few slight brushes against his mind, from Varda, from Eonwë, even from Ulmo who hadn’t left the shores of Aman yet. Oh no, he hadn’t left, he was waiting for what was about to happen. Like everybody else.

Well, maybe not everybody.

Manwë knew what he had to do, but he had no wish to do it. During the trial, the same feeling had filled his heart, as the words, the sentence of Eru had fallen from his lips. Cold, definitive, the terrible words of Iluvatar had rolled through the air. Manwë was but the messenger, yet he was also their king, and his words were taken as an ultimate decision.

His eyes left the ocean and Manwë stared lengthily at the sky, looking for an awser he would never find. When he felt a slight brush against his hand, he realized he had shut his eyes and as he opened them, he saw Varda next to him. A soft smile dancing on her lips, the Valie was looking at him, a kind look that warmed up the Vala’s heart.  
Without a word, she reached out to stroke the bird’s soft feathers, and then let her hand fall on Manwë’s forearm. It was a warm, comforting touch, and although there were many things to say, they both remained silent for a long while. Even without a word,the sweet presence of Varda’s spirit against his own helped Manwë leave this painful numbness.

_You must do it._

Silently, the Vala nodded and followed his wife out of the tower after he had bid a sweet farewell to the dove.

Through the large corridors they walked quietly. The palace was calm, empty, as if eveybody was resting, waiting patiently for what was about to happen.  
Manwë still had a few hours before him.

Yet, as they slowly walked in silence side by side, warm, bright tears started to slide along the Vala’s cheeks. Tears of pain and powerlessness, tears of regrets and sheer sadness. Varda didn’t say anything, but Manwë knew she had seen them, for he soon felt the heat of her mind against his own and a slight brush of her fingers against his wrist. In silence, he took her hand, squeezed it softly and shamelessly allowed these tears to roll along his beautiful face.

_You must not have pity for him._

Oh, but it was not pity that he felt. It was all but pity.

But Varda couldn’t understand, she could feel his pain but couldn’t understand it. She could feel it intently, achingly, and Manwë knew it would be selfish to let her endure it any longer.

When they reached the empty throne room, he looked at her, gave her a slow bow and left his fana to disappear in the air.

He hadn’t told her where he was going, but she probably knew.

They had locked him in the Halls again, safe in the darkness of Namo’s realm for adays only. Namo had prepared an isolated chamber, far away from the place where the elven fëar were dwelling.

Silently Manwë slid through the air and quickly found the chamber. He had no need no wish to hide his presence, for he had no secret for the other Ainur and although Namo would probably not approve this visit, Manwë was still the king, and the convicted’s brother.

Once in the chamber, he didn’t embody instantly, prefering to let his brother the time to get use to his presence.

Sitting on the cold gound, Angainor around his wrists and ankles, and chaining him to the wall behind him, a heavy collar around his neck - his crown- the fallen one was looking at the ground. Black hair like raven wings covering his once so beautiful face, his dark robe was still covering him, despite the blood and the dust which was staining it.

Melkor had probably noticed his presence, but he didn’t react, and when Manwë finally embodied, his brother didn’t even look at him. Unwilling to frighten his borther, or to hurt his eyesight with the shining light that was naturally radiated from his very being, Manwë decided to dim the light until it was but a soft glow.

For long they both stayed silent, Manwe observing Melkor with a lingering sadness in his blue eyes, the sight in front of him bringing more pain and misery to his heart. It wasn’t the first time he saw his brother in such a state, and yet this time,it was so much worse. This time was the last one.

“What are you looking at?”

Tilting his head, the Elder King didn’t reply, but he made a few steps towards his brother.

Still silent, Manwë sat next to Melkor, paying no attention to the dirty ground which would probably leave a few black marks on his blue robe. Melkor didn’t react to the closeness, but he didn’t say anything more, his icy blue eyes still fixed on the ground. Many times Manwë tried to gently touch his mind with his own, but he was facing a wall, and each soft bruch was violently pushed away by a strong jolt of Melkor’s will. New tears threatened in the king’s eyes, and he didn’t try to stop them when they started to roll down his soft cheek. If Melkor noticed them, he didn’t make any comment, and they both sat in silence for several long minutes, the silent cry of Manwe’s heart reaching for his brother.

_Melkor…  
I am sorry._

“Stay away from my mind!”

The sudden shout resounded in the chamber, making Manwë jump backwards in surprise. Melkor was now glaring at him, an awful glance which sent a few terrible shivers along the king’s spine.  
“I didn’t mean to–”  
“Oh no of course, brother. You never mean to.” The dark Vala spat angrily. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. You didn’t mean to humiliate me. You didn’t mean to lock me here for three fucking ages. You didn’t mean to treat me like a dog, walking me around Valmar on a fucking leash and visiting me when you had no better things to do. You didn’t mean to take everything away from me. Is that also what you said to Fëanaro? ‘I didn’t mean to keep you away from Formenos’? ‘I didn’t mean to let my mad brother kill your father and steal your jewels’?”

If Manwë wasn’t Manwë, the harshness of Melkor’s words would have probably poisoned his hear. “Oh, Melkor…”  
“You didn’t mean to banish me.” Meeting his brother’s terrible gaze, Manwê swallowed back his words and stated at him kindly, but Melkor continued, still bitter, still terrible. “And yet that’s exactly what you’ll do in a few hours, isn’t it?”

Slowly, the Elder King moved a bit closer, fearless and yet nervous, worried. “You have gone too far Melkor. I wish I could change it all, but I am powerless.”  
“Powerless? yes of course. The Elder King of Arda is powerless, he cannot make any decision and he’s chained to his duties.” Melkor chuckled bitterly. “If I could, I would pity you brother.”

Each time Melkor said this word, ‘brother’, it sounded like a painful insult, a terrible, poisonous arrow directly aimed at Manwë’s heart.  
“If I could hate you, I would, Melkor.”

An awful smirk appeared on the fallen Vala’s lips, but it didn’t unsettle Manwë whose eyes were still locked on his brother’s face.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go on, hate me. You have my permission.” Melkor snapped. The Elder King slowly shook his head, and after a bitter hiss, Melkor turned away.

“Anger.” The word had left Manwë’s lips softly, and as he heard it, Melkor lifted his head. “You made me feel anger, Melkor. For the first time in my existence, I was angry. Because of you. Because of what you did and what you forced me to do. I felt anger and I was scared of it. So I decided to search within me the strength to erase this feeling, and I found love. That is how I got rid of anger.” The birght Vala paused, sighing sadly. “You killed and lied, you corrupted, raped, tortured and destroyed. I cannot forgive you, but I cannot hate you.”

Melkor didn’t reply inmmediatly, but he seemed to ponder his twin’s words. When he finally spoke, sarcasm was dripping from his lips. “Love? So, that is how you love me? By banishing me in the void? How kind of you…”  
“You know I do not have the choice.”.

With a sudden move, Melkor turned, facing his brother one more time, but this time his chin was high, his eyes scornful and pride was shining on his face. “We always have the choice.”  
“No, Melkor. You had the choice, but I do not.”  
“This is the lie of a coward. We have the choice if we give ourselves the right to chose.”  
“I do not lie, Melkor. I wasn’t created that way. I am not like you, I do not have this power.”  
“Oh, so now you think I became the one I am thanks to a special power? That’s interesting.” Melkor chuckled, his scornful voice matching the look upon his face.  
“I’ve always thought you had a power I never had, something I cannot name but which makes you so different. Whatever this nameless power is, there was your strength Melkor, and you ruined it.”  
“This is ridiculous.” the dak Vala muttered, rolling his eyes before he turned away.  
“I admired you so much, Melkor. I still do, somehow.”

A heavy silence fell upon the two Ainur, and Manwë only wished to send a gently caress of his mind towards his bother. But he knew Melkor wouldn’t allow it.

“There is something I wanted to ask, Melkor.” The Elder King began, his voice still soft and slow, as if he was talking to wild beast. “The one you became…. is it what you had always planned to become. Did you decide to become… _this_.”  
“ _This_ is the real Melkor.” The other Ainu replied coldly, keeping his eyes away from Manwë.  
“That is not true. The real Melkor wouldn’t be chained to wall.”  
The fallen Vala scoffed, Angainor ringing around him as his hand passed over his face. “So tell, O great King, what the real Melkor would be doing.”  
“I cannot answer this question brother. Only you can.”  
“No, no Manwe¨. I want to know your thoughts on it. Tell me how you see the real Melkor.”

It was a game, one of Melkor’s sadictic games Manwë knew too well. So many times he had been caught into their webs when he hadn’t even meant to play. Shaking his head again, Manwë gave a sad smile. “The Melkor of our youth didn’t longed for cruelty and blood. That is all I know.”  
“The Melkor of our youth was but a prototype.”  
Manwe’s smile vanished almost immediatly. “Why are you so harsh to yourself? To what you used to be?”

Once again, Melkor decided not to answer, but Manwë didn’t weaken, in fact, he seemed more confident than ever as he continued. “For long I have blamed myself for what happened to you. I thought it was my fault, I thought I did something wrong, something that infuriated you and made you hate us all.” A long sigh left the bright Vala’s lips and it seemed a wave of fresh air invaded the dusty chamber, filling it with a refreshing, spring scent. “But not so long ago, I realized it wasn’t entirely my fault. You only received what you were looking for.”

Manwë leaned back against the wall and instinctively, his hands moved to his white strands. Slowly he braided them, stroked them, patiently waiting for his brother to say something. He wasn’t disappointed, for Melkor spoke again.  
“Have you ever wondered if the Allfather had planned it all? You said he didn’t create you like he created me, so he obviously gave me the capacity to become the one I became.”

Manwë smiled soflty, a birght light shining in his eyes. “It is not in my power to understand the Allfather’s will. I do not think he would appreciate if I tried.”

Groaning Melkor winced. “When will you start to think by yourself?”  
“If I didn’t think by myself, I wouldn’t be here now. I wasn’t supposed to see you before…before it happens.”  
“Oh, so my dear brother is breaking the rules? For me? How sweet.” The bitter tone in Melkor’s voice didn’t hurt the Elder King, in fact it seemed to amuse him greatly. “There are many things I could do for you, if only you let me.”  
“I do not want anything from you.”

Ignoring Melkor’s angry words, Manwe reached out, his hand sliding on the ground until the tip of his fingers brushed against Melkor’s thumb. Surprisingly, Melkor didn’t move away, instead, he stared at their hands, a slight frown on his stern face.

“I know you don’t want me to get near you, Melkor, but let me try to help.”  
A few seconds passed before Melkor brought his hand against his chest, leaving Manwë’s fingers with the air of the chamber for inly contact. “Keep your pity brother.”

“Love and pity are two different things. I hope someday you’ll understand it.”

“And that is why you banish me? To show me how greatly you love me.”

“I didn’t banish you, you did it to yourself and the Allftaher allowed it.”

The silence that followed seemed endless. The two Ainur, side by side, staring into space, were waiting for the other to speak.

At one point, Manwë felt something, a very slight, warm and soft jolt against his mind, and how he wished he could embrace this touch, hold it and keep it against his heart. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. His brother was making a shy step towards him, he knew how difficult it was for Melkor, and he knew he had to prevent himself from reacting too dramatically. He responded softly to Melkor’s move, just a welcoming thought towards his fallen brother. Yet, Melkor’s mind quickly slipt away, locking itself again behind a strong rampart.

“What will happen now?”  
Manwë handn’t expected the question, nor had he expected the unnusual soft tone in his brother’s voice. Soft but gloomy. And this strange feeling Manwë managed to catch in his Melkor’s heart…was it fear?

“I will leave you and returned to Taniquetil. Everthing is ready, but I must prepare myself. When the first spark of daylight will shine above Arda, Tulkas and Oromë, followed by Eonwë, will come for you. They will guide out of here and outside, all the Valar will be waited for you, including me.”

Melkor had closed his eyes, and seemed to listen to his brother’s melodious voice, as if he was telling him a story, a fantastic tale about something which would never happen. But Manwë’s voice broke, the words like blocked in his throat, tangled with pain and dispair.

_Then I will lead the cortege to the Door of Night. Nobody will speak, for no word will be needed, but we will sing wordless melodies of the past. The Allfather’s sentence I will say again and when the door will be open, Tulkas will cut your feet. I will say no more word, for my pain will be too real and I will watch you fall into the the void._

The thought stopped there, and Manwë didn’t try to hide the new tears which were painting his delicate features.

“Why are you crying brother?”  
“I am crying Melkor, because I love you.”

The dark Vala stared at his brother silently, and Manwë smiled, tears still flowing from his bright eyes. There was an unfamiliar glint in Melkor’s eyes. It wasn’t madness. It wasn’t rage or fear. There was sadness there, pain and something Manwë couldn’t name. It was sweet, in a painful way, but also harrowing.

“I wish I could hold you Melkor.”

Quietly, the dark Vala observed his brother and finally turned away, his cold eyes returning to the ground.  
Sadness filling his soul, Manwë nodded and stood up. There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do. The end of Melkor was near. Yet, as he prepared to leave, Melkor’s voice resounded again.

“Manwë…”  
It was the first time he caled him by his name, the first time in so many years, and this simple fact only brought more tears to the Elder King’s eyes. “Yes, Melkor?”  
They were looking at each other, one of them standing beautifully, birghtly in the cold chamber, and the other one curled up on the ground, chained, miserable, dark and terrible.

Melkor opened his mouth, but no words left it, he seemed to hesitate, to search for the best way to express this feeling, whatever it was. “ …be safe Manwë, alright?”

Manwë closed his eyes, his heart aching, his tormented soul craving his brother’s breath, his smile, his embrace. When he opened his eyes, Melkor was still looking at him, obviously wating for a reply.

“Yes, Melkor… brother. I will.” The king nodded with a birght smile, though the tears were still unnumbered upon his face. “Do not fear.”

After a last smile, Manwë left his fana, vanishing into the air, leaving behind but a few white feathers. One of them floated a short while in the chamber and finally fell in Melkor’s hand, the last caress of his brother. A kiss. A farewell. A promise.


End file.
